


Vizima

by Decorera



Series: Wild Hunt, Wild Nights [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mild Blood, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decorera/pseuds/Decorera
Summary: "Still as insolent as ever, Witcher."So basically trying to resolve, in my own way, the odd difference between book canon and game canon of Emhyr and Geralt's relationship.  Then some really graphic smut.  Cause I can.  Set after the first meeting with Emhyr in "Wild Hunt".  Probably won't make sense if you haven't played the game so at least watch that scene on the internet.  Probably don't need to have read the books, but I don't go into great detail about then here, so if you want the whole story the you know the drill.Now available in Chinese!HereThank you anttna_T!





	Vizima

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed

Geralt was sitting on the palace roofs of Vizima in a blindingly deep sulk. His encounter with Yennifer had been incredibly disappointing. For weeks, he had worried over her and then she shows up as a favorite of the fucking emperor of Nilfgaard. Their reunion had certainly been less passionate then he had imagined. He was still smarting from how completely she had blown him off when he had tried to discuss their past. 

The chamberlain had left him in a beautifully appointed room for the night with a bottle of mediocre but strong wine. Geralt’s mind was stewing too hard for the bed to be very interesting but he had taken the bottle with him when he clambered onto the roof. With all the lamps shinning well into the night, the roof was the only place in the whole palace where you could see the stars.

“Fuck her,” he declared, “Fuck her and that fucking unicorn too!” A bout of Nilfgaardian answered his declaration and he watched with interest as he saw the back of a guard’s head below him. His Nilfgaardian wasn’t good, but either the man was searching for assassins or cattle. The deep tones of Emhyr var Emreis called the man back inside which rather decidedly settled his linguistical debate.

Geralt snorted in amusement. His little wander across the rooftops had landed him right on top of the Emperor’s apartments. How ironic; the only person he was angrier at than Yennifer. This last meeting with the Emperor had been chilly, but it certainly beat being left in a room with Yennifer with the choice either to commit suicide or be executed with the dawn. He still had no idea why Emhyr had changed his mind. Since that fateful day, Geralt had avoided coming into contact with Emhyr for four years. Until tonight.

Emhyr hadn’t seemed murderous today which was a step up. His request, however, just didn’t make sense. Sure, Geralt was the best tracker available but the man was crazy if he thought that Geralt was ever going to bring his daughter back to him; especially for something like gold. Predictably as the wine in the bottle grew less, Geralt’s inhibitions dropped as well. 

Unfortunately, his curiosity grew.

Everything was silent when he slipped over the rooftops and down into Emhyr’s chambers. The guards had been dismissed to the hall outside. Geralt could hear one of them quietly snoring away. Emhyr, despite the late hour, was still awake. He was tucked into bed but was reading some report or paperwork. He looked up when Geralt stepped out of the shadows toward his bed.

Geralt could see Emhyr consider calling for the guards, but the man simply sat up further in bed and put aside his paperwork. He stared angrily at Geralt, “Witcher, I trust there is some reason for this intrusion.” Ice, Geralt decided, the man had ice in his veins, not blood.

“You’re not going to call your guards?”

“I did extensive research before I decided to call upon you, Geralt of Rivia. No one or two of my guardsmen could stand against you. If you choose to murder me tonight, there is no need for them to waste their lives.”

Geralt snorted quietly and stepped close to the canopy bed, “I’m not here to murder you. I’m not a regicide yet, despite rumors to the contrary. I want some questions answered. Answer them and we’ll see if I change my mind about murder.”

Emhyr narrowed his eyes, “Still as insolent as ever I see. Very well. I will oblige you. Proceed.”

Geralt was standing over the man fully armed and armored but the Emperor still had the stones to order him about. Geralt couldn’t help but be impressed. “Why the hell do you think, if I ever find Ciri, that I am going to bring her to you?”

Emhyr didn’t bat an eye, “Is the promised reward not sufficient?” Geralt just snarled at him. Emhyr stared him down coolly, “What reason might you not?”

Geralt ground out a bitter laugh, “Is that a joke? The last time you caught Ciri, you told me all about your great plan, right? How you were going to get a child on your own fucking daughter? To fulfill a fucking prophecy! Ring any bells?”

Emhyr frowned, “I have abandoned that plan, which should be clear to even an imbecile such as you. I released Cirilla to free you and your sorceress, did I not?”

Geralt sneered, “Like that means anything, Emhyr the Relentless. If one plan doesn’t work, you don’t abandon it. You find another way around. Maybe you realized Ciri was too powerful for you to rape and still keep. So you feign remorse, release her, and wait for your moment. Now here she finally needs you and you can finance her old foster parents to help her out of a tight spot. Maybe make her grateful enough to stay?” Geralt spat out the word like the very taste of them was poison.

Emhyr sat still and looked at him, “I admit, Witcher, that I did not expect you to be so clever a tactician. Were this a different situation, I might do exactly as you say, but the situation is what it is. Cirilla is my daughter and to act so towards her would be…unpardonable.”

Silence fell between them. The torches snapped and cracked with the slight breeze coming in from the window. Finally, Geralt replied, “What changed your mind?”

Emhyr looked away toward the door before he answered, “It doesn’t matter. The reasons are immaterial; only the fact that I bear Cirilla no ill will or wish any harm upon her.”

Geralt leaned in; his eyes sharp like a predator smelling blood. “I think it does matter, Emhyr.”

The Emperor swung back to glare at him for being so familiar, “You will remove yourself from my bedchamber, Witcher. This conversation is over.”

Geralt grinned viciously and leaned one knee on the bed beside Emhyr’s flank to loom over him. “It took forty men and you holding Yen captive for you to best me before, Duny.” He said just to make Emhyr’s eyes flash with anger. “What exactly are you going to do all on your own?”

He could see the veins in Emhyr’s neck begin to pulse and heard his heartbeat begin to race, but the scent of arousal completely shocked the witcher senseless. It was all Emhyr needed to turn the tables.

With one powerful twist and shove, Emhyr had Geralt on his back in the middle of his expansive bed with a delicate looking but incredibly sharp knife at his throat. The smallest amount of pressure had drawn Geralt’s blood. Emhyr’s blazing eyes were fixed on the crimson drop before he dragged them up to Geralt’s face, “I should destroy you.” He growled out, pressing just a bit more to let the blood drop grow infinitesimally larger. 

“You come to my bedchamber, make demands of me as if you deserve anything from me at all. You who have taken all of which I care from me.” He hissed into Geralt’s face. “My daughter’s love should have been mine. You stole it from me, you ragged wretch, and you dare to speak to me so. I should have your skin flayed from your body and lay your bones into my ballroom floor.” His knee slipped on the silk bedsheets and when Emhyr shifted his balance to recover, he ground down onto Geralt’s very obvious erection. Then it was Emhyr’s turn to be shocked, but he kept the knife firm and steady against Geralt’s pulse.

The two men stared at each other with the knife between them. Emhyr leaned closer, fury still flickering in his eyes, and kissed Geralt. The man kissed as if Geralt was a rebelling country; his tongue invaded as if it had every right to be there and subdued each of Geralt’s attempts to control the kiss. Geralt groaned as Emhyr’s tongue fucked his mouth and the knife’s tiny burning presence at his throat sent shivers of prickling pain down his spine. Emhyr pulled back with a curse and clenched a callused hand around Geralt’s bleeding throat. The knife flickered away and before Geralt could even consider turning on Emhyr, he felt the knife pressing against the big vein in his thigh. He held very still. Emhyr’s deep voice whispered in his ear,

“If I cut you here, even your witcher stamina would not save you.” Geralt held his breath as the knife cut through the soft leather of his pants like it was butter. He felt the tip prick at the skin of his thigh. “Just an inch is all it would take and you would bleed out before my guards could even reach us.” 

Geralt shivered as the pinpoint of the blade dragged up his thigh away from the dangerous vein but up toward his cock. The knife slit his pants all the way up one thigh and Geralt began to pant as Emhyr cut out the crotch of his pants to reveal his hard cock to the cooling evening air. Geralt lay exposed and pinned between the hand at his throat and the knife to his cock. He had never felt so vulnerable… or so aroused.

Emhyr dragged the knife tip up his cock, not drawing a single drop of blood. With terrible skill, he collected a drop of the precum from the tip of Geralt’s cock onto the blade. Geralt gulped as Emhyr eyed the silvery drop. The blade rose to Geralt’s mouth. “Open,” Emhyr demanded and Geralt let his lips part on a shuddering sigh of arousal. The knife slipped in and out so skillfully that Geralt only got the barest taste of the metal before his cum was carefully laid on his tongue. He froze with his mouth open and Emhyr hummed in pleasure to see him waiting on his command. “Swallow.”

A twinkle of mischief caught in Geralt’s eyes. He disobeyed and left his mouth sitting open. The knife was back at the base of his cock in a flash and Geralt’s gasped at a prickle of pain. “Swallow,” Emhyr demanded and Geralt did. The prickling pain went away as a satisfied look settled on Emhyr’s face. His command seemed to shake the air with its intensity. “You will get on your knees and suck my cock, witcher.” Geralt started panting as Emhyr leaned closer to whisper, “Or I will make you.”

Geralt could not decide which idea he liked more. On the one hand, he wanted to suck Emhyr’s cock more than he ever had any cock in his life. On the other, Emhyr taking control and threatening him with the knife nearly had him coming in his (now metaphorical) pants like a boy. He took so long to decide that he thought for sure that Emhyr would lose his temper and just make him. But Emhyr didn’t make a single move until Geralt growled out, “I’d like to see you try and make me, oh Emperor,” in the most insolent tone he could make while breathless with desire.

A pleased smile appeared on Emhyr’s lips but Geralt only had a moment to appreciate it before his hair was grabbed at the back of his head and wrenched to the side. He let out a yowl of pain and rolled with Emhyr rather than let the man pull his hair out. His body slid over Emhyr’s and off the side of the bed. Geralt’s knees slammed into the floor just as the knife returned to his throat. The guards, alerted by Geralt’s cry, pounded into the bedroom just in time to see Emhyr force the witcher’s head up and back with the grip in his hair and the knife under his chin.

The guards started forward to collect Geralt but when they caught sight of his shredded pants, they stuttered to a halt in confusion. Emhyr didn’t let his eyes leave Geralt as he said calmly, “Your services will not be necessary, gentlemen. I have the situation well in hand.” Geralt flushed with embarrassment but his cock twitched with arousal at his words. Emhyr was quick to notice. “A moment, captain.”

One guard gave the other a commiserating look but fled the room, leaving the other to turn and ask, with a bright red face, “Your majesty, how may I serve you?”

“The witcher remains on his knees, but disarm him and remove his cuirass.” Geralt shuttered in arousal. He never looked away from Emhyr’s fiery eyes as the captain unstrapped his swords, knives, crossbow, and his various pouches. He set them carefully aside and returned to unbuckle the two halves of Geralt’s chest armor. He even took a little initiative and removed the witcher’s boots. When Geralt knelt before the Emperor in nothing but his shirt and ruined trousers, Emhyr nodded in satisfaction and the blushing captain gratefully left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Emhyr remarked calmly, “I considered letting the Captain take your mouth first, Witcher, but decided I would rather I be the only one to possess you tonight.” He eyed Geralt carefully, judged his reaction, and added, “Perhaps I shall share you later, if it pleases me.”

Geralt let out a long moan as the idea of Emhyr sharing him as if he was truly the Emperor’s toy with no will of his own. It was shamefully arousing. Geralt growled out, “If you don’t fucking let me come, Emhyr…”

Emhyr interrupted him with a slap. Geralt gasped in shock and shuddered. “You will come when I tell you, Witcher, and you will address me as sir, or you will get nothing further from me tonight.”

Geralt ran his tongue over his lightly swollen lip as he considered it. Emhyr stood beside his bed with his nightshirt tented over his obvious arousal, but by his actions he didn’t seem the least bit affected. Geralt relaxed as much as a man with a knife to his throat could relax and lowered his eyes in submission, “Yes sir.” He couldn’t see Emhyr’s expression, but the wet patch which suddenly appeared above his cock on the thin night shirt at the sound of Geralt’s submission was rather telling. Emhyr’s hand returned to his hair and the knife point traced its way around Geralt’s neck until the point hovered dangerously between his third and fourth vertebrae.

“Suck my cock, Geralt.”

Geralt didn’t need the threat to urge him to the task, but in a filthy way it made it all the more arousing. For once, he truly was at another man’s mercy. Geralt might play at submission with other men. Emhyr had taken his submission and Geralt was finding that amazingly intoxicating. He slid his big hands up the Emperor’s strong thighs until the nightshirt was bunched at his waist. Emhyr sat, as coolly as he would on his throne and spread his legs wide for Geralt to shuffle between them on his knees like a supplicant. Geralt caught the thick proud cock in one hand and Emhyr’s balls in the other before plunging his mouth down the length of it. Geralt gave him his best cocksucking, but Emhyr’s breath simply sped up. Geralt was determined to make Emhyr come undone. He pulled back, swallowed, and then rushed forward to deliberately gag on Emhyr’s cock. Emhyr jerked at the harsh sound and Geralt felt a little spurt of precum one his tongue as he pulled back. 

“Again,” Emhyr demanded, “Do it again.” Geralt slid down obediently as far as he could and then pushed a little farther than that until his throat seized up. He gagged, Emhyr gasped, and the knife flipped until the flat of the blade dug harmlessly into the back of his neck. 

“Yes. That, do it again, choke on it. Go on. Witcher, choke on it,” Emhyr urged, and Geralt whimpered and hummed around him, and then choked, obligingly. The knife fell away as Emhyr used his grip in Geralt’s hair to control his head. Geralt relaxed into trembling arousal as Emhyr fucked his mouth. The Emperor’s cock invaded and retreated from Geralt’s mouth as the witcher whimpered in pleasure. Finally he couldn’t handle it any longer and he grabbed for his cock. Emhyr kicked his hand away and Geralt let out a whine through his filled mouth.

“You come when I come, or not at all.” Geralt shuddered and he grabbed at his dick just to feel Emhyr kick his hand away again. Emhyr’s hand tightened in his hair punishingly and Geralt felt a calm hazy joy settle on him. Emhyr grunted as if in surprised pleasure and began fucking Geralt’s mouth like a whore’s pussy. Geralt knelt and let him do it; his tongue licking away at the underside until he felt Emhyr shudder and spill into his mouth from very far away. The world slammed back in with a shock as he came without a single touch to his cock.

Geralt shuddered uncontrollably as he gave his dick one long pull to draw out the pleasure of the moment. He relaxed forward until his head rested gently on Emhyr’s thigh. Emhyr’s hand had relaxed its grip, and now began to comb slowly through Geralt’s silvery hair; delicately teasing and easing the nerves he had abused during their play. Geralt sighed through a rough throat. The hand paused then left his hair and Geralt couldn’t help but let out a displeased whine. There was a sound of liquid pouring above him and Emhyr’s hand returned, offering a goblet. Languidly Geralt rolled his head back a bit and let his mouth hang open slightly. The hand hesitated then gently poured sips of wine into Geralt’s mouth. Geralt swallowed the wine with pleasure until his throat was eased. The moment he closed his mouth to the goblet, it was removed and the hand returned to combing through Geralt’s hair.

Geralt wasn’t sure how long he knelt there, but eventually he noticed Emhyr’s cock lying half hard not two inches from his nose. He also noticed, with a bit of displeasure, that some of Emhyr’s cum lay smeared about his groin and thighs. Geralt began to lap and tongue the drying liquid off of Emhyr’s skin. Above him, Emhyr’s breathing shortened and his heart beat sped up gradually. He breathed in deep to enjoy the rich scent of Emhyr as he cleaned. The deep musk of Emhyr’s arousal only grew as Geralt calmly licked clean every inch of the Emperor’s groin. Emhyr’s cock was hard again by the time he issued his next command.

“Look at me, Geralt.”

Geralt matched gazes with him. Emhyr looked for a long time, but whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. He nodded and sat up straighter on the bed. “You shall strip for me, Witcher.”

Geralt grinned wickedly and stood to obey. He didn’t have much to take off but he liked the intense look in Emhyr’s eyes as he bared his chest. Emhyr sat looking for a long while before he twirled a finger lightly. “Turn around and proceed.” Geralt faced away from him and loosened his belt. His trousers slid down, slowly exposing his ass to the Emperor’s hungry eyes.

"Stop there," Emhyr commanded, his breath suddenly hitched. 

Geralt complied, his breeches just past the firm cheeks of his behind, feeling suddenly more exposed than if he were fully naked. He could feel eyes memorizing every ripple of the muscles in Geralt's back, every scar on his skin, each curve of his ass. Emhyr remained silent; the only sound that filled the room was the dull crackle of the torches. Geralt found his member thickening in anticipation and he grinned. 

"Proceed," The emperor finally said, and Geralt slid his breeches the rest of the way off his muscled legs and onto the floor. Completely naked, Geralt shivered again. He kept his hands to his sides and waited. Emhyr seemed content to just stare at him, and Geralt found the caress of his gaze to be as arousing as the touch of a hand. Tingles of pleasure coursed over his skin, meeting finally at the straining juncture between his thighs.

"Turn around."

Geralt turned and his cocky grin made the Emperor lift an eyebrow in amused distain. He stood. “Remove my garment.” Geralt went forward eagerly. He crouched to gather up the hem and then slowly slid his big hands up the emperor’s body; pushing the shirt up and off. Geralt made sure to get his own good look in. Emhyr had certainly not let himself go to seed. He was older, with the slight thickness that comes with age, but firm muscles still bunched under smooth skin. 

“Get on the bed and spread your legs.”

Geralt shuddered as the deep voice seemed to go right to his cock and he moved eagerly to obey. He lay back in a wanton sprawl; his legs spread wide enough for Emhyr to see whatever he wanted. But Emhyr seemed more interested in making a selection from a collection of oils. Geralt frowned in disapproval at the delay. Emhyr chuckled when he turned and saw the expression. He mounted the bed and knelt between Geralt’s powerful thighs. “No need to pout, Witcher. I will not leave you wanting.”

Geralt huffed and started to say something, but Emhyr slapped him lightly. Geralt’s traitorous cock loved that. “I have already found the best use for your insolent tongue, witcher. Speak out of turn and I shall put it back to good use.”

Geralt gave him a look which informed Emhyr that that was not a threat, at all. Emhyr’s gaze warmed and he muttered affectionately, “Slattern.” Geralt just grinned at the derogatory. Emhyr snorted and held out the oil to him. “You shall open yourself for my cock, Witcher.”

It was ridiculous how quickly Emhyr’s command threw his head back into the powerful wave of lust Geralt had been riding all night. He coated the fingers of a hand and began pressing one into his opening. Emhyr spread and lifted his buttocks for him. The man’s gaze was intense as he watched Geralt tease open his own ass and Geralt was tugged under the current of lust by Emhyr’s increasingly filthy commentary given in his deep aristocratic voice.

“You have such a lovely asshole, Witcher. Such a handsome pink, as if your ass wished to be admired. Perhaps someday I should display you where all who pass can see what an appealingly tight ass you have.”

Geralt groaned in admiration and arousal. He slid another finger into his ass and Emhyr just kept fucking talking!

“It does seem as if your ass is a little greedy. Just look how easily it swallowed up your fingers. You will have to fill it with much more than that to satisfy your greedy little hole. Put another finger in now.”

Geralt felt his legs shaking under Emhyr’s hands while he thrust three fingers wildly into his oiled passage. His cock was full and ready and he had to bite his tongue to keep from begging Emhyr to take him. Suddenly another oiled finger began to cram its way in with the rest. Geralt shouted Emhyr’s name as pleasure and pain shot through his body. Emhyr didn’t say a word about Geralt’s disobedience. He just straddled Geralt’s face and fed him his cock. Geralt was overwhelmed by sensation. He groaned weakly on Emhyr’s cock as the man carefully worked another finger into Geralt’s tight ass. Emhyr thrust his two fingers in counterpoint to Geralt’s three and the rhythmic driving motions were driving him mad.

Suddenly Emhyr crooked his fingers and pressed firmly in tiny circle. Geralt came with a shockingly loud shout which was only partially muffled as Emhyr drew his cock from the Witcher’s lax lips. Geralt lay almost senseless as Emhyr slid back between his thighs. He groaned in aroused embracement when he felt more than saw Emhyr pull his loose asshole open with two fingers and simply look at it. He lay still and pliant under Emhyr’s hot gaze until the feeling of oil being poured into his open ass made him shiver.

When Emhyr slid in at last, it was like nothing Geralt had ever felt before. It was one long slow easy glide in. His tormented asshole fluttered loosely around the invading cock and Emhyr groaned in satisfaction. He bent over the prone witcher to whisper in his ear, “Your ass is just like you, witcher. It wanted to be forced into submission. You feel how it opens willingly now for my member, for its master.”

Geralt felt his pride try to make a stand, but gave up with a whimper as Emhyr dragged his cock over and over Geralt’s prostate: building a shuttering wave of pleasure. Geralt couldn’t even move under Emhyr. He just lay there in submission and let Emhyr fuck him to the music of his filthy whispers.

“This is what I have wanted to do to you every time you challenged me. Even today, I wanted to throw you down across my desk in front of my courtiers and make your body submit to my mastery; though I imagine your tongue never would. Now that I have you, I must admit you are one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. The way you take my member into you, smoother than any whore. You are so open and wet now it is practically like taking a woman. Shall I finish inside you, Witcher, and make you even wetter still? Fill you deep inside and send you out tomorrow on my business with my seed leaking out onto your saddle.”

Geralt groaned and twitched under the assault but he didn’t cum. Emhyr cupped his balls thoughtfully as if weighing the amount of seed left in them. “You are very sweet like this, but if I lower myself to sleeping with a slattern like you, then I expect to be pleased.” Emhyr’s hand fell in a shocking slap across Geralt’s buttocks. “Tighten up your ass now.”

Geralt was moaning continuously now as Emhyr’s spanks fell harder and faster, each with a demand for him to tighten up. Instinctively Geralt’s ass clenched every time a spank landed, and the resulting wave of pleasure rocked through him. Every drive of Emhyr’s cock, every spank, every command, rushed through him like an avalanche. He came back to himself clenching tightly around Emhyr’s cock and begging him to be allowed to come.

Emhyr was hunched over him and driving his cock hard into Geralt as if he wanted to pin Geralt to the bed with his cock alone. When he saw Geralt focus on him, he panted out, “Beg your Master to come and I will consider it.”

Oh, it was so unfair. Hadn’t he done everything else? Hadn’t he submitted? But Geralt was too far gone to protest.

“Master, please let me cum. Please, Master.”

Emhyr gasped and his eyes opened wide as if he hadn’t thought Geralt would do it. Emhyr pressed in, shuddered, and came deep in Geralt’s ass. Geralt kept humping desperately up at him even as the man’s cock softened inside him. The aftershocks had barely stopped when Emhyr cursed and pulled out, making Geralt whimper in dismay. But he was rewarded by the sight of Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd sucking his cock into his mouth like a dockside whore. It only took three swallows of that royal throat for Geralt to fall over the edge once more.

Geralt lay back in stunned exhaustion. “Holy fuck, Emhyr.” Emhyr, lying beside him with an arm flung over his face, barely managed a mild hum of displeasure at the familiarity. It was not convincing.

Geralt rolled onto his side to look at the emperor, “Aren’t you married?” he asked incredulously, more as a question as to how the man had become so ridiculously pent up.

Emhyr clicked his tongue, “You have nowhere from which to stand to admonish me on the topic of fidelity.”

Geralt fell back to the bed with a sigh of relief, “Fair enough.” He probably didn't want to know the details anyway.

The two men lay in oddly compassionate silence. Well, it was silent for Emhyr. Geralt was listening to the awkward shifting and coughing of the poor guards outside the door who had no doubt heard the whole thing. But hell, if Emhyr wasn’t ashamed to be heard ploughing the hell out of a witcher, Geralt wasn’t ashamed to say he enjoyed it plenty. He might even go for another round someday if Emhyr ever took the stick out of his ass again.

“Why DID you change your mind?” Clearly self-preservation and ‘chance of future fuck’ preservation were not Geralt’s strong suits.

Emhyr was silent for so long that Geralt figured he was tactfully ignoring the question which had started it all but, just as Geralt was about to get up and find some pants which might fit him, Emhyr answered him.

“You said I was a monster.”

Geralt blinked in surprise, “Back…”

“Yes, when I told you my plan that none of my closest advisers had objected to, explained my reasoning which seemed so logical, you told me to my face that you thought the entire idea was monstrous and that I was a monster for even considering it. Then when I brought you to Cirilla and Yennifer, my own daughter ran to you for protection from me. As if I was a monster.” Emhyr’s lips twisted, “I hadn’t seen her for so many years, but she knew just like you did. I was so angry at you that I, well, you know what I did, but later I regretted it. I let Cirilla go to free you and I returned to Nilfgaard to do some desperately needed spring cleaning of my advisers.” 

That was far more than he ever expected to get out of Emhyr. And what’s more, it had the ring of truth to it.

“If Ciri agrees to come, I’ll bring her to you.”

The silence was almost deafening but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Emhyr’s whisper.

“Thank you.”


End file.
